My garden is a happy mess

Starting in mid-May and lasting right through June, between classes all morning Monday through Thursday, the corporate job that supports me every weekday afternoon and evening, and piles of homework on weekends, something had to give! Actually, a lot of things had to make way. My critters remained fed and cleaned up after, while on minimum maintenance. Ungroomed and living out, the horses and kitty turned half-wild, while inside the dogs moped and Cody Carrothead, the citron-crested cockatoo, called “I love you, I love you, I love you” as I raced out the door in the morning and dragged myself in at night. Somehow we two-foots and four-foots all managed to muddle on through 6 weeks of crazy.

The weeds and what passes as a lawn, on the other hand, thrived: two weeks ago I emerged from a tough semester surrounded by a waist-high sea of growth. And I comforted myself with the thought that my garden would go on and that it would grow what I need. And so it has…in spades! As I slowly work my way through an abundance of sweet grass and dandelions, mounds of not so humble plantain, and what turned out *not* to be feverfew, I’m finding myself surrounded by both loss and blessings. My chives and French tarragon, sadly, have passed. My beautiful wild calendula, which had re-seeded itself throughout the garden for the past 6 years, this year failed to return. On the other hand, the strawberry patch that my snow-plower carelessly dispatched two winters ago, and which had re-planted itself on the safer, far side of the garden, has taken on new life. It’s made best friends with the marshmallow, wound its way along the former path that separated the marshmallow from the lemon balm, and has even held the lemon balm at bay. My mountain mint and agastache golden jubilee, both also plowed up by the renegade plow, are no longer large bushes, but have found new life in a multitude of babies.

And then there are the giant plantings that I’d removed years ago because they were simply too oversized and overwhelming for the relatively small space between the house and garage that is home to my baby-plant nursery. As I mentioned above – I believed that my garden would provide me with what I needed most. So what has returned this year, after a long absence, in my time of high stress and, more recently, depression over the catastrophe in the gulf? Valerian…everywhere. And last evening, to my surprise, St. John’s Wort. Garden Magic, anyone?